


Because I Don’t Know What Else To Say

by potatosocks



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Angst, Established Relationship, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, LIKE A LOT OF ANGST, M/M, One Shot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-03
Updated: 2020-03-03
Packaged: 2021-02-22 22:30:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23001430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/potatosocks/pseuds/potatosocks
Summary: Kiku was used to this routine. A fight that Al would care too much about, and he would care too little. Al pushes him away, and Kiku walks the streets at night. He knew what would happen if he got back. Al would grab him, as though he wished he never let go. It was a deadly, vicious cycle that both of them could never get out of.
Relationships: America/Japan (Hetalia)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 19





	Because I Don’t Know What Else To Say

**Author's Note:**

  * For [my girlfriend and the love of my life](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=my+girlfriend+and+the+love+of+my+life).



> Hi guys, thank you for reading this! This work is very much the result of my own traumas and relationship issues and dumping them onto fictional characters. I will be posting an update maybe some time next week but I dont plan on doing this for more than 3 chapters. Leave a comment if you have any constructive criticism, it will be greatly appreciated!

Al slammed the door shut, throwing his weight against it. Some part of him wished- no, begged - for Kiku to storm in after him, to scream at him and tell him that it’s not okay and that he hated him. The other part just wanted Kiku to hold him, to tell him that he still loved him and that he was worth it even after all this.

Fuck.

Al sunk to the ground, fighting to hold back his tears. Fights with Kiku were always the worst. The one-sided crying, the pleas of “I’m sorry” and “I’ll be enough for you I swear”. And Kiku’s responses were always the same, no matter how hurt, no matter how upset. That blank-faced stare with nothing behind his eyes.

“Forget it”.

How could Al forget it? The slight waver in Kiku’s smooth voice? The hurt in his eyes before the walls went back up again? The walls that Al spent so many sleepless nights breaking down?

His hands were on his knees now, his back to the door. He could hear the shuffling of shoes, the door opening and closing, the lock turning with a click.

The house was silent now, quiet after the Al’s cries and Kiku’s deadpan responses. Silence was always deadly.

It was in silence when the voices in Al’s head came back in full force. Swirls of “you’re never going to be good enough” and “you’re not worth it” flew around the room. It was easier to shut up that voice with Kiku. Kiku was the drug to make it better. The painkiller. With Kiku, Al never felt more alive, more okay, more normal.

Al look at his upturned wrists, the scars left on it from broken nights. There was a reason he always wore his bomber jacket. He gripped his hands, knuckles turning white. The voices were louder, more convincing, more him. They weren’t a separate entity. They weren’t thoughts that his brain came up with. This was him.

And maybe that was all there is. Just a broken mess on the floor.

* * *

Kiku’s shoes hit the ground in a familiar pattern. Left, right. Left, right. Breathe in, breathe out. Breathe in, breathe out. Fights were inevitable. He knew that. He just didn’t know why Al had taken it so seriously.

Whatever hurt, whatever anger, he swept it under the rug. It wasn’t worth the trouble.

The cold air bit at Kiku’s cheeks, ruffling his hair. The iciness filled his body, the dread of going back home. It was late at night, the bright convenience store lights blinding him as he passed it by. The streets were empty, rows and rows of houses lined the road. Some lights were still on, others were shrouded in darkness. In the distance, a dog barked, breaking the fragile silence of the neighbourhood.

Kiku couldn’t see the moon today. The clouds had come in, covering the bright white light. All that was left to illuminate the dark roads were street lamps, glowing orange.

He was used to this routine. A fight that Al would care too much about, and he would care too little. Al pushes him away, and Kiku walks the streets at night. He knew what would happen if he got back. Al would grab him, as though he wished he never let go. And then the sex. Passionate, raw. Desperate. Sometimes too desperate. Al bit him, grabbed him, fucked him as though Kiku would fade out of his hands any minute. It was as if the louder Kiku cried for Al, the more proof that he would stay. The masochistic side of Kiku loved it, being used and manhandled. But the rational part of him was worried for Al - if this was what he was like in bed, taking his pain and anger and channelling it into the thrusts behind Kiku, how much worse was it in his head?

Kiku would wake up the next morning with bruises from Al’s rough hands.

All would be good for the next few days. Al would be loving, understanding. The Al that Kiku fell totally in love with. Then the fights would start again.

Kiku always toyed with the idea of just not going back. Just leaving in the dead of the night. Pack his bags, find someone else. Break the cycle.

But he never did.

The soft sounds of water broke his train of thought. Unconsciously, his body had brought him here, through twists and turns of dark alleys. He could have gone anywhere in the world. But he ended up here.

How many summers ago had they stood here, on this bridge, eating ice cream and laughing? Al, the first Al that Kiku ever knew, had stood opposite him, his arm on the railing. They had watched the Koi below them swim, as their hands drifted closer and closer till they touched.

This Al always smiled, his eyes crinkling as his lips turned upwards. He always laughed, the deep booming laugh that used to startle Kiku at the start. He always had something to say, to declare his passion for. He had so many things he loved and Kiku was felt so fortunate to be one of them. 

That Al slipped away. Not all at once, just bits and dribbles. Kiku didn’t realise it until it was too late. Sometimes, on sleepless nights, he barely recognised the blonde in his bed.

He leaned over the railing of the bridge, the same way he did 2 summers ago. It was cold. It was the end of fall, and winter was coming. Kiku breathed in the cold air, ignoring how it stung his nose and blurred his eyes.

There were days he wished he could go back to the start. Today was one of them.

* * *

Kiku’s ice cream was melting. It was hot, the sun piercing through the clouds. Kiku could feel his skin burn, the beginnings of a burn. His pale skin was always susceptible to the sun, the consequence of spending years hidden away in his room. Before this, he had always preferred the comfort of his room.

But Al dragged him out of that, just as he was dragging his arm now, pulling him towards the bridge. He laughed, deep and booming. His blonde hair was everywhere, covering his glasses. Kiku fought the urge to push it back, just so he could see the blue eyes hidden underneath.

They reached the top of the curved bridge, panting and laughing.

“You like the view?” Al teased, gesturing to the small brook tucked away in the hidden part of Kiku’s neighbourhood.

Kiku glanced at Al, who was too busy cooing over the fish to notice. He did like the view.

“I’ve lived here nearly all my life and I have never even been here,” he smiled wryly, joining Al against the railing. His hand was cool against the hot railing as the heat seared into his skin. His shoulders brushed Al’s. With that one touch, he was acutely aware of how close he was to the blonde.

They ate in silence for a while, the tinkling sounds of the brook below them. With anyone else, this would have been awkward. But not with Al. Kiku had never felt so comfortable in silence.

He looked over at the blonde. His blue eyes were shining, even brighter and bluer than the water below. His lips were turned up, into a half-smile. His messy hair had parted into two, framing his face like it was a picture.

Kiku felt his breath catch in his throat. He was beautiful. There was no denying that. Every curve on his face, every detail. It was -

“Whatcha looking at?” Al looked down at Kiku, his eyebrows arched in mock anger. Kiku felt the beginnings of a blush creep onto his face.

“N-Nothing! There’s just some ice cream on your face…” Kiku scrambled to come up with a worthy excuse.

“Oh?” The blonde smirked, “Clean it off then.”

Al’s smirk was infuriating, yet slightly attractive. Kiku’s face were definitely red by now. Groaning, he reached a hand up to brush the imaginary ice cream off Al’s cheek.

He was so intent on “brushing” the cream off that he never noticed Al’s hand reaching up, catching his own in his grasp. With Kiku’s hand firmly in his, Al pressed his face gently into the palm of Kiku’s hand.

Kiku froze, every limb going numb. What was going on? This had to be a dream, or maybe it was a nightmare.

All Kiku could do was stand there, as Al took a step closer. Blue eyes scanned his face. Kiku didn’t know what Al was looking for.

Kiku could hear Al’s breaths, short and nervous.

In one fluid motion, Al had two hands pressed against Kiku’s cheeks and his lips against Kiku’s mouth. Nothing could have prepared Kiku for what Al’s lips would have tasted like, would have felt like. Not even months of toying with the idea of kissing Al, of claiming Al as his own. Al’s lips were rough, chapped from his constant lip peeling.

It took Kiku’s brain a moment too long to process that. Al had pulled away, his eyes cloudy. He backed away as quickly as their lips touched.

“I’m sorry I didn’t -“

Al never got to finish his sentence. Kiku had pulled him by his jacket, smashing his lips onto Al’s. His hands running through blonde hair, his tongue across chapped lips.

The breeze was warm against Kiku’s skin, but Al was warmer. All Kiku wanted to do was freeze this forever, keep it looping. He wanted this feeling, of his stomach doing cartwheels, his hands shaking, his lips hungry, to never end.

They broke apart after what seemed like eternity. Standing opposite each other, after a semblance of awkwardness, Kiku started to giggle. Not long after, Al joined in.

Al pulled Kiku to his chest, his strong arms around Kiku’s shoulders. Kiku could feel his chest rise and fall, in time to his sweet laughter.

He looked up at Al’s laughing face. Maybe this was all he needed in the world. Maybe, for the first time in a long time, things were finally going right.

* * *

The echo of laughter was fading as Kiku ran his hands over the cold railing. The wind was howling now, raking his bare face with its icy claws. A single orange street lamp illuminated the bridge, alone.

He wanted to go back to the summer, with ice cream and laughter and cuddles. When everything seemed alright. There were no explosive fights, no walkouts, no blood on the floor that Kiku needed to clean.

He hated himself for thinking like this. Al was still Al, no matter how broken he was, no matter how many scars on his wrists.

Kiku turned away from the bridge, away from the memories of summer. It was a long trek home.


End file.
